“I’d love a tour of archaeological sites.” Actually, it would be downright perfect, especially if she could get him to show her the right ones. “I’m particularly fascinated by the statues of Buddha. I hear there are some that are absolutely massive stone carvings, some even with gems.”
Pritchard chuckled. “All the ladies love the gems. You’d look magnificent in rubies my dear—not that emeralds don’t suit you as well, of course. But the red gleam of a perfect ruby would absolutely glow against your golden skin.”
Nell chuckled back. Men only called her complexion golden when they were flirting. The rest of the time she was brown. “I do love rubies, but I think I’d rather see them on the statue than remove them to wear around my neck. It seems…almost sacrilegious, desecrating a place of worship.”
“Well, that’s what archaeologists do, my dear.” He chuckled again. “But I do agree, I’d rather leave a significant piece intact for a museum to display and study than break it up into bits on the black market. Perhaps when we’re both back in England, I can escort you to the British Museum and show you some of my most important finds.”
“Of course.” Actually, she’d rather eat ground glass. Mum, back when she’d been the governess, had taken the children to the British Museum once. The number of ghosts, sad, angry, screaming ghosts, attached to the collection of artifacts had overwhelmed Nell, leaving her ill and in tears. She hadn’t been back since, and wouldn’t be likely to go again. The only exhibits she enjoyed were those by modern, living artists. Very rarely did she find a ghost among those.
When the dance ended, she found herself with another partner, and another, with barely enough time to take a breath. Tom seemed to have changed his tactics, waiting instead of commandeering her into a waltz. She danced with Mr. Walford, the shipping magnate, and managed to wangle more stories about Calcutta and the surrounding regions, including the use of native Bengalis as officers on ships. Apparently this was rare among East India company vessels, and even for private ships that traded under company auspices. The only way that might have happened, he told her, was if the ship was owned by one of the local moguls, or by someone who was closely allied with one.
The Star of Calcutta had a British owner, one who now lived in Ceylon, according to Tom’s research. She wondered if this man had ties to the nawab’s family or overlord.
She beamed at the fatherly Mr. Walford. “My father knew a man once by the name of Johnstone who owned some ships. I wonder if you’ve encountered him, since you’re in the same business. I believe he’s from Ceylon, but he must spend some time in the capitol.”
“We’ve met,” Walford admitted. “Johnstone is well-connected throughout the Indies. In fact, I believe he does staff his ships with native officers on a regular basis. Most owners and captains worry about mutiny and rebellion, but Johnstone swears by the practice. Didn’t even have any trouble during the Sepoy Mutiny of ’57, so he might be on to something.”
“Is Mr. Johnstone often in Calcutta? If so, I ought to pay my respects on behalf of my father.”
The music ended and Walford led her off the floor and straight to the punch bowl, bless his heart. He must have known how desperately thirsty she was. “No, he’s infirm these days and never leaves his tea plantation. I believe there’s a son. He makes the rounds, as it were. Bombay, Calcutta, Bangkok. If he’s in town, I’d be happy to introduce you.” He handed Nell a cup of punch.
The sweetness and tartness of the various fruits softened the sharp tang of the champagne, making a flavorful, bubbly concoction that burst on her tongue. “That would be lovely. Thank you so much, Mr. Walford. I look forward to seeing you in Calcutta.” She drank the rest of her glass greedily before another man, this time one of the ship’s junior officers, swept her back out onto the dance floor.
“Nice to see a young, single lady,” the young man explained. “Not too many of those on the ship. Not so many in India, either, unless you count the darkies.”
Nell lifted one eyebrow. “You do realize that I am, as you put it, half-darkie? I’ll thank you to quit using such an offensive term.”
The boy, probably all of seventeen, blinked before his blue eyes widened. “Sorry, miss. Thought maybe you were Italian.”
Nell muffled a giggle. “No offense taken, Ensign, and you wouldn’t be the first to make that guess, but let that be a lesson. Never make assumptions about people unless you want to be caught with your boot in your mouth.” Inwardly, she laughed at herself for the lecture. Even on the dancefloor, she was still a schoolmistress at heart.
Eventually, she couldn’t help but dance with Tom. They were traveling as siblings, so it would have been unconscionably rude to give him the cut direct when he stood right in front of her, hand extended. At least it was a country dance, not a waltz.
She hadn’t danced with him since she’d learned of his marriage, so she expected to it be miserable and awkward.
It wasn’t.
Apparently her newfound resolution to live life on her own terms had lifted her out of her abject depression when it came to facing him. When his hand touched hers, gloved though they both were, she felt a tingle all the way to her spine. She probably always would.
It just didn’t hurt anymore.
An enormous weight of sadness and gloom had been lifted off her heart. She smiled, letting the sheer joy of the music fill her veins.
“You look like you’re having fun,” Tom said when they came together during the reel. “It’s lovely to see.”
“Thank you.” They parted ways before she could say more.
The small orchestra was good, four men complimented by several automata. The live musicians were talented enough to provide the spirit and soul of the music. Technical precision simply couldn’t replicate emotion.
There was a parallel there to her idea of marrying Roger just for the sake of a family, but while the music played, she didn’t care to explore that thought too deeply.
“It does seem frivolous to dance while we’re on a mission,” she whispered the next time Tom came close. “Even though there isn’t much else we can do.”
“Doesn’t it?” He cocked his head and winked. “Welcome to the life of an agent of the crown. Lots of mucking about, lots of mind-numbing boredom, all for a few moments of satisfaction.”
They split apart again. He’d forgotten one thing, she mused. The danger. She’d been to funerals for family friends who’d died in the line of duty. She’d witnessed and tended more injuries than she could count, though that had started back in Wapping, before they’d even known about the Order.
It was something Mum, Amy, Belinda and countless others lived with every day. Any time a Knight went on a mission, there was always the chance that instead of seeing your loved one come home, it would be the duke, Lord Lake or Sir William at the door instead, a black armband on his sleeve.
Living as a spinster would save her from that.
She’d made the right decision. As for tonight, there was nothing else to do, so she might as well enjoy the dancing. By the time Tom escorted her back to her room, she was giddy and exhausted, but happier than she’d been in years.
“You’re magnificent tonight,” he said in a low voice as they paused outside her door. “I don’t think I’ve seen you so beautiful since Wink’s wedding.”
“I had fun.” At Wink’s wedding, she’d assumed her own would be next. After that, she hadn’t had much to smile about. “I promise, though, I didn’t forget about our mission. Tomorrow morning, I’ll be all business again.”
“I’ve no doubt of your dedication.” He tipped his head, mindful, she was sure, of all the other passengers finding their own rooms after the dance. “May I take you for a walk in the conservatory in the morning? Perhaps we can compare notes from tonight. And discuss that matter I brought up earlier in the day.”
“Of course. Nine o’clock? I’ll meet you there. Goodnight, Tom. Sleep well.” At the reminder of the morning, her cheerfulness started to fade. She
stepped back toward her door.
His eyebrows scrunched together as if she’d confused him, but there were too many people in the hallway for him to press her further. Instead he bowed his head. “Goodnight.”
Eileen, who’d certainly been listening at the door like any good lady’s maid, opened the portal the moment Tom turned away. “Come in, miss. I’ve some cocoa warmed and waiting, just the way you like it.”
Nell cast a bemused smile at the other passengers in the hallway and ducked inside.
* * *
Tom paced the conservatory the following morning, waiting for Nell to join him. She’d insisted on meeting up here, sending a message via Eileen rather than allowing him to escort her. This early in the morning, the room was empty. All the guests were sleeping off the excesses of the night before or enjoying breakfast in the dining room. What few brave souls were about seemed to prefer the outdoor viewing deck for their morning constitutional, looking down on all the grand cities of Europe, which were mostly dark blobs of smoke and soot when viewed from above, hardly picturesque in Tom’s opinion. As to the countryside, it had never been his idea of paradise, although he’d found himself the owner of a proud country estate. Stonechase was about a half-hour carriage ride north of Cambridge, and he supposed he liked it well enough. Certainly, if he was going to have a family, he’d rather raise them there than in London, where a man could cut the air with a knife, and vampyres lurked in the filthy, smoky alleyways.
The soft tap of slippers sounded on the terra-cotta tiled floor. Most men wouldn’t have heard it; Nell walked with that lithe a step.
He turned from the window and watched her glide toward him in a day dress of coral pink trimmed with blond lace from Paris. “It’s lovely to see you in pretty frocks again. That school was sucking the life out of you with their drab grays and browns.”
“Nonsense.” She squeezed his hands in greeting but ducked the kiss he aimed at her cheek. Not exactly the reaction he’d hoped for. She went on. “That school was the making of me. I don’t intend to go back into sackcloth, though. At my school, the faculty will be encouraged to wear what they like, as long as it’s decent, of course.”
Tom chuckled. “So Wink’s coveralls wouldn’t be allowed?”
“Only in classes on mechanics or certain physical education programs. I’m not impractical enough to put my students or teachers in danger of having flowing skirts caught in gears or anything.” The glow of anticipation on her face was perhaps the most beautiful sight he’d ever beheld. “But for everyday wear, the student uniforms will be socially appropriate, although perhaps available in a choice of colors and small things like sleeve length or style.”
“Then why have uniforms at all?” She was set on this idea of a school. Would the possibility of marriage be enough to dissuade her? His doubts bubbled to the surface.
She rolled her eyes, presumably at his lack of understanding. “Because uniforms do one thing. They reduce the level of class distinction between pupils. You went to school as a baronet, Tom. Surely you understand that without uniform regulations, someone like you would be dressed very differently from a charity student, and that would make a huge impact on how they were treated by the other children.”
“It matters,” he pointed out. “Everyone knows who’s who and who will one day have power. But I see your point. In a school as small as yours, you probably didn’t need specific colors to differentiate houses.”
Nell laughed. “Glenbury was a school for the blind. We could have dressed them all in tartan with calico stripes and they wouldn’t have cared. But while my new school will accommodate children with handicaps, I don’t think I’m going to limit it to one group, like Glenbury. I want to open it up to pupils with a variety of unusual needs, including those with special gifts like ours. I intend to start by lobbying for students within the Order, especially from Mum. I’d love to have the girls, at least, and maybe Will for a few years before he goes off to Eton or Harrow.”
“It sounds as if you have this all planned out.” He offered her his arm and when she took it, they strolled along the floor-to-ceiling windows, enjoying the unpolluted sunshine. “Is Papa setting you up on the Hall estate?”
“I expect so.” Her small, fashionable bonnet blocked her face from his view now that she was by his side. “Northumberland isn’t perfect since it’s so far north, but it would be nice to be close to the family.”
“Nelly, are you sure you want to do this?” He paused and used both hands on her shoulders to gently turn her toward him. “You have other options, you know.”
Her lips quirked. “Well, I think Roger is out of the question now, so not as many as I had before. Of course, I could go back to London, do another Season and all of that, but I don’t want to. I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to adopt, like Mum and Papa did. And I’m going to be headmistress of my own school. For the first time in my life, I know exactly what I want.”
She was completely missing his point, so Tom did the only thing he could think of that would clarify his intentions.
He dropped to one knee.
A few gasps came from the conservatory around them. While they’d been walking, a few other early birds had come into the area.
Nell paled and her lips formed the shape of an O. “Get up,” she whispered. “God, Tom, don’t do this. Not now.”
“I must. I finally can.” He’d screwed up his courage and he wasn’t going to run away now, even if his guts were clenched in terror that she’d refuse. “Eleanor Caroline Jenkins Hadrian, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife and making me the happiest man alive?”
Nell pulled her hands from his. When had he taken them? His brain wasn’t working at all properly.
“Please, Tom. Don’t make me do this.” Tears shimmered in her wide dark eyes.
“Please, sweetheart. I need you.”
His hopes fled as she shook her head. “No.” She stepped back and took a deep breath, one tear spilling over and down her cheek. “No, Thomas. It’s too late. I’ve finally made my peace with myself and my life. I love you in so many ways, and I suppose I always will. But I will not marry you. Or anyone, for that matter. I’ll never put my heart in the hands of another man. I’m sorry, dearest. My answer is no.”
The world receded, his eyes and ears stopped functioning, and the floor might as well have fallen out from under his feet. An entire army of vampyres could have flung themselves at him and in that moment, he wouldn’t have noticed.
Nell had turned him down.
Worse, she’d told him why, and he understood. He’d done this to himself by breaking her trust.
“I see.” He forced himself to breathe until the world around him came back into focus. “I understand completely. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to go have a cigar in the smoking lounge.”
“Of course.” She reached up and touched his cheek, wiping away a tear he hadn’t even noticed he’d shed. “I am sorry, Tommy. Really. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you.”
“No, of course not. You’re too kind to hurt anyone.” He caught her hand and pressed a kiss on the back of her knuckles. “So our miss—” He broke off, mindful of their growing audience. “Our trip continues as it began, with your devoted foster brother escorting you to help find out more about your heritage. You may depend upon me for that.”
“I do.” She wiped her own cheek, her glove soaking up the tears. “And as to that other business we’d discussed, my answer is yes. I should like to meet the nawab, as long as it doesn’t conflict with your duties to the viceroy.”
“Then we shall make sure it happens.” He bowed. “Good day, Nell. Forgive me if I do not join the captain’s party for dinner tonight.”
With that, he strode away, desperate for some whiskey or brandy to take away the taste of despair that flooded his mouth.
Nell stared blindly out the window, sure her heart was forever shattered. She’d done the right thing, the only thing, but that didn’t make it as
easy as she’d hoped it would be.
A soft voice spoke beside her. “Miss Hadrian, may I obtain you a cup of tea? Or perhaps escort you back to your suite?”
Nell turned to see an older woman in a figured silk frock, silver-gray curls bouncing. She was the one who’d wanted Nell to meet her son. And she had, at the dance last night. Nell took the offered hand. “Thank you, Mrs. Van Guilder. I think I should like to lie down for a moment, if you’d be so kind.”
Having someone else to walk down the hall with made it easier to bear the stares, some sympathetic and some clearly disapproving. Interesting to know that some were on her side and some on Tom’s. That was comforting, in a way. Not everyone thought she was a fool for turning down such an eligible young man.
“Perhaps my Alistair can escort you to dinner tonight?” Mrs. Van Guilder knocked on the door of Nell’s room to summon her maid. “We were invited to join the captain this evening.”
Nell smiled. As envoys of the queen, she and Tom were among the few guests invited to the captain’s table each evening, while the honor rotated among some of the other high-ranking passengers.
“If it’s all the same, I believe I’ll take a tray in my room.” Nell stepped in the door as Eileen opened it. “But thank you kindly.”
The older woman shook her hand, recommended hot tea with a dram of sherry for shock and bustled away before Eileen could close the door on her nose.
“Shall I make some tea, miss?” Eileen studied Nell with concern.
Nell just wanted to fall apart in private. “I’d prefer to be alone, if you don’t mind. Perhaps you can make another trip to the shops?” The moment the older woman left, Nell threw herself facedown onto the bed and sobbed her heart out into the pillows.
She didn’t expect to fall asleep, but the room was dark when she woke. Eileen had crept in and pulled the shades. Even more, she’d done her best to make Nell comfortable. When she sat up, she realized she was under a soft blanket and her hair, no longer pinned, fell in a long braid down her back. Had she slept through all that? She must have. Her gown and corset were loosened as well. Moreover, a tin of shortbread biscuits and a pot of cinnamon-infused hot chocolate waited on a warming tray, scenting the room with the sweet, comforting smells of the nursery at Hadrian House. Gracious, how long had she slept? She lifted the blind and looked at the clock on the nightstand. “Three hours? Good lord!” No wonder she was hungry. She had been too nervous about meeting Tom to eat any breakfast. Come to think of it, she hadn’t slept much the night before, either. Perhaps she wasn’t a fainting milksop after all. She stripped down to her chemise and stockings, pulled on a dressing gown, pulled open the blinds, then curled up beside the window to enjoy her snack and gaze out at the sky.
Ether & Elephants Page 17
